


Chateau Night

by pcysgal



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom Minseok, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Polyamory, Public Sex, Spanking, Sub Jongdae, Threesome - M/M/M, sub baekhyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pcysgal/pseuds/pcysgal
Summary: All the regulars in the dungeon know them, want them, and how could they not when the trio has such striking visuals; Minseok, the Dom––small in stature but no less attractive and intimidating––with piercing cat-like eyes, exudates power and perfect control; Baekhyun, the oldest sub, delicate and absolutely ravishing with his wide hips and tiny waist, thin pink lips and heavily shadowed eyes, the more feminine of the boys; Jongdae, with his sharp bone structure and gorgeous lips, toned body and round ass. The three of them are walking pieces of art, pretty and aesthetic with every step they take. They are the topic of most conversations in the seclusion of the dungeon; ChenBaekXi, or sometimes just CBX.





	Chateau Night

**Author's Note:**

> Why is posting here so difficult? I posted this earlier and accidentally deleted it *sighs* posting it again.

The lights are dim, the music soft and sensual as Minseok walks the entrance hall of Chateau with his two boys a proper step behind him. This place is familiar to the three of them, and Minseok navigates them through it, without giving it a second thought, across the burgundy velvety carpet. His boys have their heads down, eyes on the floor, but the trust they have on their Dom is so absolute that they follow his lead with no need to look up.

All the regulars in the dungeon know them, want them, and how could they not when the trio has such striking visuals; Minseok, the Dom––small in stature but no less attractive and intimidating––with piercing cat-like eyes, exudes power and perfect control; Baekhyun, the oldest sub, delicate and absolutely ravishing with his wide hips and tiny waist, thin pink lips and heavily shadowed eyes, the more feminine of the boys; Jongdae, with his sharp bone structure and gorgeous lips, toned body and round ass. The three of them are walking pieces of art, pretty and aesthetic with every step they take. They are the topic of most conversations in the seclusion of the dungeon; ChenBaekXi, or sometimes just CBX. 

Minseok sits on a leather sofa, legs spread and clad in tight black denim, the jacket he is wearing accentuates his waist thanks to a thick leather belt cinching it. His hair is styled up, his eyes carefully lined. He looks intimidating, unreachable, untouchable. And he is, for everyone except his two boys who currently sit at each of his sides, curling up against him, with one of their hands on either of his thighs. 

People come and go, other Doms talk to him, praise his perfectly well-behaved subs, ask the bartender to offer him their own subs to share, but neither Minseok nor his boys are into that. So Minseok politely declines every time. It’s worth their try, they are quite popular at the dungeon after all; the more he refuses, the more everyone will desire what they can’t have. Minseok just smiles, small and sinister. This kind of torture he enjoys inflicting.

As the minutes go by and Minseok finishes his first and only glass of brandy of the evening, he feels his boys get squirmy. It is always this way. They certainly are prim and proper––most of the time––but being in this ambient, feeling all the eyes in the room directed at them, feeling how thick the desire is in the air makes them ache, if only a little bit. This is just the beginning of their night.

As previously discussed by the three, the next step to follow is watching a public scene. This time, he walks with his boys pressed to his sides, an arm around each of their waists and hands poised on their hips. He doubts anyone would question his ownership, but he sinks his fingertips a tad more viciously just to further make his point. 

The room they enter is white, sterile, bare of furniture except for a gynecologic chair, a table with multiple toys and an assortment of white leather sofas against the wall closest to the door for viewers to lounge on and enjoy the show. Despite being open and public, it gives a certain degree of isolation for the people on the far end of the room to feel comfortable playing their roles.

Minseok sits on one of the empty chairs and only a look is necessary for his boys to understand they must sit on the floor by his feet. He crosses his legs at the knees and pets each boy’s hair as they watch the scene unfold.

A Domme has a male sub on the gynecologic chair, ankles and wrists strapped with leather cuffs. He is completely nude except for a black beaded collar adorning the base of his neck, while she wears tight leather pants and a black and white lace corset. The man looks beautiful, Minseok observes, panting, sweating, scrunching his eyes tightly as his Domme teases his inner thighs with a vibrating wand, closer to his awaiting crotch with each subtle stroke. Who knows how long she has been edging him, building him up only to retreat and leave him desperate for release. He sure is beautiful, with a glistening puddle of crystalline precum pooling on his lower abdomen and tears gliding down his temples. He doesn’t hold a candle to his boys though.

For a couple of seconds, he observes his two subs and falls in love once again. They are perfect, each in their own way, mischievous yet composed, rowdy yet obedient, each perfectly aware of the other, and of Minseok. They hold hands in the space between their bodies, fingers intertwined, and Minseok smiles again. They are so much more than just Dom and subs. They are soulmates, the three of them, they are irrevocably in love with one another. And they fit together, seamlessly. 

The scene, however sensual it may be, doesn’t truly arouse Minseok. He’s always found it impersonal watching strangers being intimate. What excites him, however, is the need he can sense from both his subs on the floor, squirming again, squeezing each other’s hand in need, impatient but not even considering acting without being given an explicit order. Minseok is proud of them.

“Angel,” he says in a low tone as to not disturb the scene unfolding in the room, “give our Princess a kiss.” And it’s the order they have been waiting for to act on their desire. Jongdae––Angel––moves like a mighty cat and approaches Baekhyun––Princess––leaning sideways until he is so close he can smell Baekhyun’s shea butter scented body wash and then kisses him, slow and sensual, just how Baekhyun likes it, and just how Minseok loves witnessing.

His teeth caress over Baekhyun’s bottom lip and make him gasp into the kiss, creating the perfect opportunity for their tongues to tangle, with such cadence that it’s almost too sinful to watch. Strangled little moans escape both subs as the kiss gets slightly more heated and Minseok looks around in time to notice that most of the eyes aren’t on the couple performing their scene but on his boys, devouring them, wanting them. 

A dry, mocking laugh bubbles up his throat. They can stare all they want but this action is just for him, only his––they are only his. 

The kisses grow hungrier, more intense, hands running up and down their backs as per established in their Dom/subs relationship agreement––it is forbidden for subs to touch any body part different from each other’s backs while playing without a direct order from the Dom––but Minseok can feel the need to take it further vibrating through his beautiful boys. The rest of the spectators can feel it too. Even the Domme feels it, glancing in their direction every now and then causing her restrained sub to whine for attention. Minseok feels proud; this is the effect his precious rays of sunshine have on others and he is the only one with the privilege to do more than just watch.

It feels like a good moment to interrupt the kiss and move things along, however. With a seemingly unaffected voice he orders “enough,” and gets a heady rush of pleasure from the way both Jongdae and Baekhyun pull apart without complain, breathing laboured, chests heaving and eyes unfocused but completely obedient. He is so proud; his boys are so well trained.

Minseok gets on his feet and bends at the waist, a finger hooking on the metal loop of Baekhyun’s delicate red collar and using it to pull him up and kiss him hard on the lips. Baekhyun immediately opens his mouth, knowing Minseok doesn’t play around when it comes to kisses. Their tongues intertwine, Minseok demanding and Baekhyun pliantly surrendering. It’s harsh and fast and Minseok knows Baekhyun wants more but he won’t give it to him, not yet, not when Jongdae is waiting for his turn. He looks beautiful when he’s writhing with need anyway.

Turning to his other side, he hooks his finger in the loop of Jongdae’s matching collar and kisses him, just like he kissed Baekhyun. There is no favoritism. Jongdae is less pliant this time, though, taking advantage of the kiss and biting Minseok’s bottom lip roughly, clearly rebelling, a sign that he will have to break him tonight, take that smidge of rebellion and tear it down until all that’s left is Jongdae’s need to be good.

The kiss breaks when Baekhyun releases a tiny, unintentional whimper, fisting his dainty hands on top of his thighs. He would only look even more gorgeous if he cried, Minseok thinks.

The room is silent except for the poor restrained sub and some light panting here and there. They all watch as if enraptured as Minseok straightens and pulls his subs to their feet by the collars, nothing gentle about the movement, and strides towards the door of the room, both boys following dutifully a step behind, heads down and holding hands. 

Neither of the three looks back, but they know. They know that at least half of the people in that room will come following them, craving what they have to offer. 

Minseok opens the door to a different room, this one unoccupied and more to their liking, one of their most used. The lights are dim, the rug and the walls blood red.

As opposed to the previous room, this one has a bed with silk black sheets, restraints on each corner for every limb. There’s a big dresser to the left of the bed inside which Minseok knows he’ll find all sorts of impact toys. He already has a plan for his boys and he can’t wait to rummage through those drawers in search of the perfect instruments.

Looking at the foot of the bed, as though they had requested it, is a black wooden suspension beam, polished and ready to be used. Minseok intends to use it.

The room is filling slowly, people taking their spots on the chairs placed furthest from the main play area, a common trait all public rooms share. Nobody knows what will happen tonight, but they are all addicted to the way Minseok controls his boys, reduces them to sobbing, pitiful things and only when they’re stretched to the thinnest, to their absolute limit does he give them relief.

A solitary loveseat is poised facing the bed and Minseok sits there, elegant, slow, like a panther, like he has all the time in the world. His legs cross at the knee and he looks haughty and powerful. His eyes gravitate to his boys immediately, standing a couple of steps away, hands clasped in front of their bodies, eyes on the floor, Baekhyun with his black linen suit jacket, cinched at the waist with a sash, no shirt underneath, and ripped black skinny jeans, his platinum hair an iridescent halo around his face, and Jongdae with his tight, black dress pants and flowy, gray silk shirt already threatening to slide off a shoulder, auburn hair mussed. They both look perfect.

“Strip each other,” he commands and watches, enjoys the systematic way in which Baekhyun and Jongdae take turns removing pieces of fabric from one another’s bodies until they are bare for everyone to see. A shudder rakes their bodies and if Minseok didn’t know any better he’d think it’s because of their sudden lack of covering. But he does, he knows better. He knows it’s because they get off on the attention, on the desire all these strangers feel for them, the hunger, the lust.

Without sparing their audience a glance, Minseok stands from his seat and walks to the dresser as he speaks. “Kneel.” It’s a single order and he hasn’t reached his destination when his ears catch the sound of two pairs of knees hitting the floor, one first and then the other. He knows who took longer to follow the order––and why––but he gives nothing away as he opens the drawers and pulls what he needs from them.

The items he’s chosen are poised on top of the dresser, organized by size in a true Minseok fashion. He takes his time, smirking to himself when he hears the softest of whimpers coming from his Princess’s lips, already desperate and needy, trying to patiently wait for what Minseok has in store but feeling the heat coursing through every nerve fiber in his slim and curvy body. 

Minseok turns to face them, taking his jacket off, leaving it neatly draped across the arm of the loveseat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his veiny forearms in a slow, teasing motion, eyes focused on the task at hand but mind paying attention to the rustle of his Angel and Princess’s knees on the carpeted floor every time they get too squirmy to stay immobile.

His footsteps are light and rhythmic as he struts towards the kneeling subs, who are completely nude except for their matching collars. Minseok has stated it many times in the past, but it will never be enough: they are truly perfect.

An evil side smile curves his lips as he approaches Jongdae first. “Angel, on your feet,” he orders and Jongdae obeys, daring to look up once and make fleeting eye contact. Minseok circles him slowly, his body so close that he can feel the heat of his boy’s skin warming him up. Jongdae shivers under Minseok’s intense stare, goosebumps littering his unblemished skin––except for the bruises already fading on his hips and wrists.

“Under the beam, Angel.” Jongdae clenches his jaw but does as told, moving to stand under the wooden beam, pulling his arms up for the inevitable restraints that are coming his way.

Minseok hums and binds his hands together with a soft red rope before hooking one of the hanging chains through the carefully wrapped loops and suspending Jongdae until he’s barely balancing on his toes. The bindings are tight but Jongdae adores the soreness and redness of the delicate skin around his wrists after he’s bound, the ache in his shoulders that will remain for days reminding him of this very moment.

“You look so beautiful like this, Angel. It’s a shame you keep misbehaving… Now you will only be allowed to watch…” Minseok sounds disappointed, something he knows Jongdae hates despite being the brattiest of the two subs; he likes making a statement every now and then, but just like Baekhyun, he thrives on Minseok’s approval. 

Minseok glades a fingertip down Jongdae’s spine as he speaks, then up his left side and across his shoulder blades. The touch is torturous for Jongdae, but also for Minseok who has to continuously remind himself that this isn’t about instant gratification. 

He sighs and walks away from the suspended sub and towards the kneeling one. Baekhyun can’t stop fidgeting, his cock hard and pink between his parted thighs, tip glistening with arousal. Minseok can’t wait to touch.

“Up, Princess.” Baekhyun scrambles to get on his feet. “Look at me,” Minseok says and Baekhyun wastes no time in lifting his face. Minseok is breathless for a moment; Baekhyun’s eyes are starting to tear up, his cheeks are rosy, and his lips are slightly parted allowing the tiniest of gasps to seep past them. He looks positively and beautifully debauched; and to think they haven’t even started the actual fun.

“Look at my beautiful princess…” Minseok muses after regaining his composure, and Baekhyun presses his thighs together. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Baekhyun whines and nods his head minutely, but the answer is not satisfying enough, so Minseok lifts one hand and scrapes one of Baekhyun’s nipples with his thumb nail, “use your words princess, I can’t understand you otherwise.” His voice is reprimanding, chastising and his boy sputters for a moment before replying with a breathless “yes, Sir.”

Very much like he did with Jongdae, Minseok circles Baekhyun, staring, admiring, appreciating how soft he is, how despite the defined muscles here and there, there’s this plushness inherent to him, to his rounded hips, to his plump ass and thighs, to the soft curve of his narrow waist. The last time they played a scene, Jongdae received the bruising, so Baekhyun’s skin is pale and spotless. Not for long, Minseok thinks. Not after what he has in store for him.

 

-

 

Jongdae watches with rapt attention as Sir devours Baekkie’s delicate little body with his eyes; the hunger and intensity enough to practically taste it. He has a very particular relationship with watching. On one hand, being a witness of the way Sir unravels Baekkie and turns him into a puddle of need is wonderfully erotic, so much so that he’s even come once or twice from watching alone and rubbing his thighs together; on the other hand, it arises this necessity to be touched as well, inside of him, it gets him desperate and needy and frustrated faster than he’d like to admit. Being bound, on top of everything else, doesn’t help at all. 

Baekkie looks beautiful approaching the bed and lying there after Sir’s order, his alabaster skin a stark contrast to the black silk of the beddings. Jongdae is already well on his way to complete hardness.

Sir leaves Baekkie writhing on the sheets as he retrieves an item from the dresser; blindfolds, white with black lace trimming. 

The bed dips as Sir props a knee on it, placing the blindfolds on Baekkie’s belly and leaning towards the head of the bed to get a hold of the restraints. “Hands,” he says and Baekkie quickly obeys, pulling his arms up and over his head so Sir can tie them up one by one. He has always been like this, ready to please, never challenging, never disobeying, never like Jongdae. When Baekkie is always sweet and pliant when they play, Jongdae tends to stray out of line occasionally, like the brat that he is, earning some delicious punishments in return. The best orgasms always come after a thorough spanking or the likes, in his humble opinion anyway.

Jongdae is so hard now; Baekkie looks like a meal with his sight impaired and his hands tied to the bed, arching his back in desperation, already whining for more despite not having anything done to him yet. Even then, Sir is the best sight right now; the front of his jeans shows just how aroused he is, his arms flex with every move, his eyes burn holes on Baekkie’s nude body before redirecting to him. Their eyes meet and Jongdae just knows this will be one of those scenes where he will suffer and end up begging to be allowed to come. 

It sort of feels like peeping through a cracked door; Sir sets his attention all on Baekkie again, startling a gasp from him when his soft fingertips come into contact with his trembling lips. Jongdae supposes he is, in a way, another one of the many voyeurs in the room––although he knows Sir’s focus is also on him and whatever possible discomfort he might experience. 

It’s been a while since he’s been in Baekkie’s position, blindfolded and at the mercy of their Dom, but he can vividly imagine how he must be feeling, with his ears more acutely adjusted to the heavy breathing coming from their audience, the low murmurs, the occasional whine from other subs, and his vision impaired leaving him to perceive every touch as a surprise, magnifying the feeling of it. It’s an onslaught of sensations that one needs to endure and try to internalize to avoid climaxing unprompted. But Baekkie has always been good at it, he’s always known how to please Sir, and Jongdae had once resented him for it, thinking Sir was biased. That was before discovering Sir enjoys taming his brattiness just as much as Baekkie’s total submission.

Sir runs the pads of his fingers down Baekkie’s chin, following an invisible path that involves the front of his long neck, the middle of his chest, taking a detour to the left to leave barely-there caresses over a pink stiff nipple and then to the right to give its twin the same treatment. Baekkie arches his back and Sir allows it, doesn’t comment on it, basks in his responsiveness. The fingers continue down, down, down until they’re dipping in the tiny pool of crystalline precome on Baekkie’s lower abdomen, circling the wetness, teasing the angry red of the head of his cock, causing him to pull on his restraints and moan in unison. Jongdae has to bite his tongue not harmonize Baekhyun with his own moans. Not yet.

Sir stops touching Baekkie then, who slumps on the bed, panting heavily to try and catch his breath, and moves his hand to prod against Baekkie’s teeth clenched on his bottom lip. His mouth opens and two digits immediately invade. Jongdae can’t see very well from where he’s tied up––the angle is not the best––but he knows exactly what Sir is doing to have Baekkie moaning like this, he’s been there. The palmar surface of his fingers must be rubbing against Baekkie’s tongue, front and back, slowly but with enough pressure to keep his mouth from closing. Then Jongdae shudders, eyes drooping, remembering that those fingers are coated and Baekkie is tasting himself, sweet and salty at the same time, delicious. He wants to taste Baekkie too, he wants to taste Sir, wants to taste himself but all he can do is simmer in his own frustration, balance on his tippy toes to avoid the ropes to cut too much into his wrists, feel the way the blood rushes to his cock and the sweat drops slide down his heated skin. It’s absolute torture, of its best kind.

Baekkie is starting to hump the air and Sir yanks his fingers out of his mouth as soon as he takes notice. He whines and Jongdae feels like whining too, but he still resists it, he’s stronger than this. Besides, Sir has only just started with Baekkie; if Jongdae begs now, in any form, Sir might take longer than the absolute necessary to get to him. That’s not what he wants.

Jongdae watches with so much hunger in his eyes as Sir gets off the bed and goes to retrieve another item from the top of the dresser. He turns around and returns to the bed holding a feather tickler in one hand, and he must be going to use something else because his other hand is fisted by his side. 

Meanwhile, Baekkie writhes on the bed, so hard and leaking onto his stomach, flushed all over, glistening with a light layer of sweat, tongue peeking out of his pretty, pretty pink lips every now and then to soothe them after biting them so roughly.

He can see Sir open his fist and bend at the waist over Baekkie, and is that a…? He plants a kiss on one of Baekkie’s hipbones as his deft fingers approach the proud hardness a couple centimeters away from his face. Just as Baekkie is distracted by the scrape of teeth against the protruding bone, Sir wraps a leather cock ring around him. Jongdae wants to cry. But he mostly wants to come.

Baekkie is drooling, and Jongdae is sure he’s got tears wetting the blindfold as well. He looks beautiful.

Sir retreats from leaving bite marks all over Baekkie’s hips and just stands there for a moment, admiring his handiwork, while the man on the bed whimpers and pulls on the bindings on his wrists.

Jongdae loses his balance the moment Sir starts caressing Baekkie with the light blue feathers; he begins with his right ankle, just a soft touch, barely even there, moving up the inside of his calf and to his knee, daring to go above it just so. Baekkie can do nothing but arch his back and moan. The feathers stop touching him and move to the other leg, near the knee this time, surprising Baekkie even more, who probably expected methodical, organized Minseok to follow the pattern he had already started. 

The feathers move south this time, and then back north, drawing spirals of different sizes on the soft skin of Baekkie’s thigh. Each stroke of the feathers gets closer and closer to the place everyone wants the most. A single stroke to the fold where thigh meets hip has Baekkie bucking his hips as a high-pitched whine gets lost in the stifling air of the room; Jongdae can’t be sure who the culprit is––for all he knows, it could have even been himself. Whoever it was, he can’t really blame them; again, he’s been in Baekkie’s place before, he knows how it feels being touched there, how sensitive it is, how incredibly erogenous it can be when touched the right way.

Baekkie’s thighs spread like the wings of a butterfly, seeking more contact, pleading to be touched in more sensitive places without using his words. It’s a dangerous game; Sir likes clear words that leave no room for interpretation, yet neither of them has been give explicit indication to speak freely. In the presence of doubt, it’s better being safe than sorry. Baekkie is probably thinking the exact same thing, if he still has a grasp on his thought process.

With a flick of his wrist, Sir dances the feathers up Baekkie’s perineum and further, until they’re tickling his testicles and cock, both confined in the leather ring. The feeling must be superb if the wild cry Baekkie lets out is anything to go by. Jongdae is starting to lose his cool.

Sir maps a trail up Baekkie’s midline, dipping in his belly button, up until his Adam’s apple is being teased. The tightening of Baekkie’s abdominal muscles is entrancing, he looks like the definition of debauched with his unruly hair sticking up everywhere, his lips parted to allow filthy sounds into the air unbidden, his arms taut and tense, pulling and pulling to no avail. In a moment of sheer weakness, Jongdae resents Baekkie again; he wants to be in his place right this second, he wants to be touched and played with, he wants to be the center of Sir’s attention. Jongdae wants to experience the overwhelming sensations Baekkie is being submitted to. But he can’t, he is tied to a wooden beam, he is precariously holding himself on his toes, with arms up in the air starting to tingle already and shoulders aching. Tears stream down his face in a mix of anger, frustration, need and resignation. He refuses to let out full sobs, though. His pride is suffering one blow after the other, but it is still intact enough to prevent him from giving in. It’s too soon. Where’s the fun in that?

The feathers stop their teasing and Sir drops them unceremoniously on top of the dresser to retrieve a second item. Jongdae shudders. Sir returns to the bed where Baekkie can’t stop the undulations of his hips. Two fingers surprise him as they softly prod his pink bottom lip and slide inside after it hangs open and his wet tongue comes peeking out. The moan that tumbles out of Baekkie’s mouth has Jongdae biting his tongue to prevent mirroring it; it’s so gravelly and sinful and needy and Sir rewards him by yanking his fingers out of his mouth and bringing the braided leather strings of the flogger to the top of Baekkie’s thighs.

Sir knows where and how, no doubt about that. His wrist flicks with the utmost precision to deliver stinging blows on fleshy thighs, and then gyrates it to draw circles on Baekkie’s belly and chest. A quick strike and the strands land on the engorged flesh of the ringed cock making Baekkie sob.

“Please…” Baekkie whines; he wants more, and Jongdae understands. He wants it, too. Hell, he is almost ready to start begging, but then Sir drops the flogger and gets on the bed, kneeling between Baekkie’s legs and Jongdae holds his breath. Things are never so easy––not even for Baekkie––and still, he is shaken to the core with the slap of Sir’s palm against the side of Baekkie’s thigh. The sound is sharp and quick, a rapid movement that leaves the supple thigh rippling, skin pink.

Jongdae is just shy of forgetting whatever pride he may have left and just beg for Baekkie to be fucked already, because then, his turn would come faster and he is promptly losing his mind with the desire to be touched, manhandled into submission, to have the brattiness fucked out of his system––temporarily at least.

Sir continues delivering slaps all over Baekkie’s upper thighs, one after the other. He doesn’t make a sound though. He doesn’t deign to look at Jongdae, not even for a second, and that fact both frustrates him and turns him on beyond belief. He’s helpless, at the complete mercy of this beautiful man currently bending over Baekkie to scrape his teeth across a pink hardened nipple. 

Baekkie tenses, arching so beautifully, white spilling from his constricted cock, glistening on the skin of his lower belly. He remains erect, however, thanks to the ring, and he wails in time with Baekkie’s whimpers. Fuck pride.

As if that is what Sir has been waiting for––it probably is, Jongdae breaking––he straightens up and unties Baekkie’s legs before moving to remove the blindfold. Baekkie is barely coming down from his ecstasy, his body and nervous system overwhelmed and confused by the fact that he’s just had such a powerful orgasm, but his cock is still hard. He blinks multiple times––to adjust to the sudden light or to get rid of the teardrops clinging to his eyelashes, Jongdae doesn’t know––and Sir gives him the softest of smiles, full of warmth and love and care, and Jongdae, for the nth time of the night finds himself envying Baekkie to the point it almost hurts.

“My beautiful Princess,” Sir murmurs, low and gravelly, smoothing his knuckles down the side of Baekkie’s face, trailing his jaw. Baekkie lets these sounds edging between sobs and whines tumble out of his lips at the endearment. “You’re doing so good for me,” he continues as he gets off the bed and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Eyes on me, Princess.” The command has Jongdae gulping. He knows it was meant to be for Baekkie, but he can’t help but also obey, his mind starting to enter this headspace where he can’t tease or challenge, just do as he’s told.

Baekkie can’t control the sounds bubbling up his throat, and how could he, really, when Sir’s chiselled body is coming on display, hard muscles and tight skin shimmering with sweat. Sir always sweats this much, sometimes even more, but it never fails to leave them both entranced. The drops that slide down the middle of that defined chest and get lost in the rough material of Sir’s pants are always the best.

Jongdae doesn’t register he is crying until Sir hooks his thumbs on the waist band and pushes down––underwear and all––rendering himself fully naked for all eyes to see. It’s so embarrassing having lost control of himself like this, in front of all these people, being in his Dom’s hands this way, so powerless. He loves this embarrassment, though. He knows their audience is murmuring, verbalizing their pleasure in a hushed tone that his mind vaguely acknowledges but doesn’t really give importance to; it only serves to feed their exhibitionism, although the only eyes Jongdae craves on him right this second are his Dom’s. Sir is the epitome of power, so hard it must be painful, yet neither his countenance nor his voice as he utters “Princess,” hint towards it. Truly, a master of self control. 

The bed dips again and this time Baekkie can see how Sir moves like a predator, situating himself between his still parted legs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to take a step without thinking of me, and you are going to love it,” he says and Baekkie whimpers, legs twitching to wrap themselves around Sir’s hips to pull him down and on top of him. Maybe ten minutes ago, Jongdae would have done that exact thing if he were on Baekkie’s shoes, he’d defy master and chase his own pleasure. As it is, he just relates to Baekkie’s need to be good.

Baekkie is drooling, an actual sobbing mess on the bed, pulling on his restraints, unable to put words together to form a coherent sentence, except for a broken ‘yes, Sir, yes’. It doesn’t matter anyway, not when Sir rests his weight on his left hand next to Baekkie’s head and kisses him hard and filthy as his other one reaches under one of the pillows to retrieve the conveniently stashed bottle of lubricant the dungeon provides.

Sir does nothing more than coat himself with it before curling his hands on the back of Baekkie’s knees and practically folding him in half and then easing into the tightness. Just how Baekkie loves it, harsh and without any prep. Sir is not that big––not small by any means either––but his size is perfect to unchain the best of burns. In Baekkie’s words, it hurts, but it’s the best kind of pain.

He has a privileged seat for the show; the position he is in, facing the foot of the bed, gives him great visibility of the ripple of Sir’s back muscles, the tightening of his butt cheeks, the craning of his neck with each thrust of his hips into Baekkie. It’s erotic and maddening, even more so when Baekkie digs his heels on his lower back, right where the small dimples rest, and pulls him closer, spurs him to go faster and harder without uttering anything but abandoned moans. 

It’s absolutely entrancing, being able to witness the moment Baekkie stutters and begs to be allowed to cum please, oh god, Sir, please, and Sir pulls himself up straight to remove the cock ring and relentlessly pound into him until Baekkie screams in pure ecstasy. Regardless of the cock ring being off, there hasn’t been any verbal permission to climax. Baekkie is crying, heartbreaking sobs of need and desperation. Sir never stops his thrusting, doesn’t diminish the speed, and Jongdae knows there is a very wicked, fucking sadistic smirk on his lips while he appreciates how wrecked his Princess is.

Jongdae is sobbing too; his cock is so hard it feels like it might fall off if someone doesn’t touch him, and soon. His mind doesn’t compute the dull ache in his shoulders and wrists anymore, all he is aware of is the throbbing arousal spreading all over his body, right under his skin, itching and leaving him breathless. He shakes his head and blinks rapidly trying to get rid of the tears––it’s all useless, he knows, but it’s worth trying––and hears Sir give the raspy command of “come for me, Princess”. He looks back up right on time to see how Baekkie comes all over himself, some wayward streams even reaching his face with the force of his release.

Sir fucks him throughout his entire climax and then some, pulling out to an oversensitive whimper, combing Baekkie’s hair off his sweaty forehead and cooing at him. Baekkie is a hairbreadth from dropping into subspace so the physical and emotional reassurance Sir gives him is absolutely necessary. Even then, Jongdae wishes Sir would just leave him there and come closer to him, come and touch him. He is selfish, he knows, but desperation has no friends, despite him being head over heels in love with Baekkie as well.

“Such a good girl, you did so well, my love, I am so proud of you,” Sir whispers into Baekkie’s ear loud enough for Jongdae to hear and subconsciously whine for the attention he’s been denied for so long. The whines and sobs increase in volume and frequency as Sir does nothing but stay next to Baekkie’s limp body, caressing up and down his soft belly with his fingertip, leaving feather light kisses all over his neck and jaw.

Jongdae cannot take it anymore.

“Please…” his own voice sounds alien in his ears, small and feeble, pathetic, and despite all his pride and resilience, he loves every second of this, of being reduced to an insignificant excuse of a person, needy and weak. 

It is what Sir has been waiting for, and he plants one last kiss in the middle of Baekkie’s forehead before lifting himself off the bed and approaching his overheated self. He is trembling like a leaf in the wind, miles past the point of caring about his dignity; he just wants. 

“Oh, Angel, you’re such a mess, look at you…” Sir has this mockingly concerned edge to his voice which only makes Jongdae sob harder. He brought this upon himself, he is well aware, he wanted––wants––it, yet the frustration is reaching unbearable heights. Jongdae keens at the feeling of cool hands holding him by the hips from behind, the press of Sir’s cock between his cheeks, the warmth of the breath fanning the nape of his neck.     

“Please…” he drawls again, and again, and then some more until it sounds like a prayer, like a helpless mantra. Sir laughs at him, mirthless but with a hint of fondness; after all, he loves fucking the sassiness out of Jongdae. 

“Oh, now you’re begging, huh? Now you’re pliant and needy like a little thirsty slut.” Jongdae loves and hates being called a slut, but he can’t find it in himself to dissect his feelings about it when Sir drops a palm heavily on the fleshy swell of his ass. A cry abandons his lips, his body jostling with the force behind the impact, struggling to balance on his tiptoes. 

“Sir, please…!” he repeats, and the dam has been broken. “I’ll be good, I promise,” words are formed without a second thought; he’s rambling, doesn’t even know if he’s making sense at this point, all he wants is to be touched again, it doesn’t matter how. 

“Please what, Angel?” another slap hits the side of his thigh. “Use your words.” the third slap is harsher, right across both cheeks and the sensation doesn’t register as pain anymore. It’s just pleasure coursing through his veins, such little contact becoming overwhelming after being neglected for so long.

“Please, fuck me, Sir,” Jongdae pleads, desperate as his cheeks are massaged, kneaded by the same hands that delivered such vicious blows only a minute prior. 

“So shameless, aren’t you? Do you like all these people seeing you beg for my cock?” Sir asks. It’s rhetorical so Jongdae doesn’t answer. Of course, he likes it, the three of them do. They thrive on being ogled, admired, desired; it makes them feel like beautiful, unattainable gods, holding so much power over everyone and anyone who watches. It’s a rush and the best part of it is that all those people who watch their debauchery get to witness the way Sir breaks them down piece by piece and puts them back together right after, the only one allowed to touch. “Do you like them knowing just how much of a slut you truly are?” Fuck yes, he thinks. 

Sir sighs heavily. “I’m not convinced, you know. This little whiny act of yours, I don’t buy it,” he says as he retreats from his hanging body and fiddles with something on top of the dresser. “You challenged me, rebelled against me. If you think a couple of tears are going to sway me, you are sorely mistaken, Angel.”

 

-

 

Baekhyun opens his eyes to a sight he will never tire of; Sir stands in front of Dae holding a riding crop in his right hand, trailing the leather tip all over Dae’s front, from the top of his knee, slowly, leaving goosebumps on its way, completely bypassing his crotch and moving further north until it circles light brown nipples. 

Dae is crying, fat tears streaming down his face nonstop. He kind of feels bad for having been pleasured first, but he knows Dae wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He looks beautiful like this, flushed and defeated, trembling and heaving for air. His heart breaks a little, but his body reacts to it in a different way. He is starting to swell again, unable to restrain his reaction despite having had two incredible orgasms already. He can’t be blamed, though; the two men he loves the most are in front of him, naked and turned on, sexy, all his to enjoy.

“Count them,” Sir orders and the shiver simultaneously running down their bodies seems to be shared by both Baekhyun and Dae, as though they were a single person instead of two individuals. Sir lifts his hand and immediately brings the crop down on Dae’s upper back; he sobs heartbreakingly, a weak “one” coming out of his kittenish mouth. Baekhyun bites his bottom lip.

The way Sir circles Dae’s limp body leaves Baekhyun panting, twitching everywhere, thirsty. Another blow, swifter this time, lands on one of Dae’s butt cheeks––he can’t see which one from this angle––and it makes him quiver. Baekhyun’s eyes rake Dae’s lithe body, a slow once over, focusing on how hard he is, red and leaking precome all over the floor at his feet. He wants to taste.

“Two,” comes Dae’s word like an afterthought, like he had forgotten all about it for a second. Baekhyun understands what that’s like; Sir has this ability to overflow your body with different sensations all at once, overwhelming you, making your brain short circuit, and yet he always gives an order that forces you to focus on something other than the pleasure, to maintain a coherent train of thought. It’s exhausting and always difficult to achieve, but it makes your confused body feel everything more intensely.

Several more blows come on Dae’s body, across his butt, his upper thighs––back and front––and even soft ones against his cheeks and lips, always followed by the feeble murmur of the number they represent. Dae can barely speak by now, voice raspy and overused, his panting further drying his throat. He looks enchanting. 

The last blow has Baekhyun’s breath catching in his throat. Sir stands in front of Dae, a little to the side giving him and the rest of the room a good view. His left hand reaches up and roughly catches Dae’s jaw, making him look up. “Look at me,” he demands, and as Dae’s eyes struggle to obey and focus on Sir’s face in front of him, he delivers a swift, stinging blow on the shaft of Dae’s weeping cock, making it bounce. The cry from Dae is the loudest so far; Baekhyun can hear the pain mixed with pleasure in it, and the murmur of the audience as a soft “fifteen” fades in the air. He thinks he distinguishes the words ‘beautiful’ and ‘good boy’ coming from them. He absolutely agrees.

Baekhyun is completely hard again, finally gathering enough energy to sit up on the bed. The crop gets thrown somewhere on the floor as Sir wraps his strong arms around Dae’s elongated torso and kisses him on the lips. Baekhyun tilts his head to the side to catch the way Sir shoves his tongue into Dae’s pliant mouth, taking what is rightfully his, making him whimper.

“You took it so well, Angel,” Sir mutters against Dae’s lips, the kiss broken but their lips still in contact, just touching. Dae moans at the praise, craving it after basically being ignored throughout the evening. “I think you deserve a reward now.”

The air changes, no longer heavy with the tension that promised torture, this tension promises something else. 

Dae remains tied up, the crying intensified at the prospect of finally, finally getting what he really wants. Sir glues himself to his back, bare hands massaging along his ribcage, fingertips occasionally reaching his pebbled nipples, and lips attacking the side of his neck and his shoulders. They look incredible together, the perfect picture of lust and love, and Baekhyun wants in.

Before he can voice his request, however, Sir interjects. “Princess, come here,” he orders and Baekhyun scrambles to get off the bed. It’s just a couple of steps he needs to take to be right where he desires but he doesn’t have the patience to take his time. “On your knees, baby girl. Show our beautiful Angel what your pretty little mouth can do.”

No further prompting is needed.

Baekhyun drops on his knees with a thud––his body will resent him later for it, but frankly he doesn’t care. His hands settle on Dae’s hips and his mouth falls open automatically to latch at the head of Dae’s cock. Baekhyun moans as Dae outright wails at the sensation; he tastes so good Baekhyun could spend the rest of his life like this and be content. He is salty, slightly bitter but with a hint of sweetness that has him addicted, wanting more, never satisfied. He sucks lightly and then opens his mouth to further take Dae in; he knows not to tease, not after everything Dae has been through, and just bobs his head like the hungry mess he is. 

Dae is pulsing in his mouth, twitching and struggling to thrust into the maddening heat and push back against Sir’s cock as he balances on his toes. How much longer will Sir keep him in this position, he wonders. 

He looks up from under his eyelashes and sees Dae with his head thrown back, resting on Sir’s shoulder, all sorts of lewd sounds spilling from his beautiful lips parted around two of Sir’s fingers. He can’t help but moan at the sight, hands holding Dae’s hips tighter, sinking his fingernails into the skin. He needs, but Dae comes first right now, no pun intended. The vibration from his moan sends Dae into a spiral and he lets go of the fingers in his mouth to clench his fists over the knot keeping them together, unable to do anything but continue moaning. Baekhyun knows he is close. Sir knows as well.

The wet fingers move without a stop to Dae’s entrance––Baekhyun can’t see but he knows by the tightening of his abs and the hitch in his breath––and as soon as they press inside, he climaxes into Baekhyun’s mouth, body seizing and moans coming together to form a beautiful song. He swallows it all and continues sucking, hungry for more, until Dae is whimpering with oversensitivity and hardening in his mouth once more.

Baekhyun is about to lose his mind. He pops off Dae’s cock at Sir’s order and gets on his feet to wrap his arms around Dae’s dazed self, pressing light kisses to the corner of his lips as Sir undoes the ties keeping him up. He slumps forward and Baekhyun, despite having a slight and feminine frame, catches him without trouble, stroking his hair and waiting for directions.

Sir takes Dae from him and bends to carry him bridal style to the bed. Baekhyun follows, after being given a look that replaces a verbal command. He sits on the bed with his back resting against the propped pillows. Dae ends up sitting between his parted legs, back pressed against his chest, head resting on his shoulder.

Baekhyun moans and wiggles at the feeling of his hard cock pressed to Dae’s lower back and the sight of Sir lathering himself with lube before sliding all the way inside Dae, who starts crying again.

He takes it upon himself to massage Dae’s sore shoulders, arms and wrists, nibbling on his ear and whispering praises to him as he does so. The power behind each one of Sir’s thrusts has Dae jostling all over, rubbing against Baekhyun’s sensitive cock and he is beginning to feel the ghost of a new orgasm approaching. It doesn’t help that he has Dae’s warm body in his arms and Sir locking eyes with him as they both dote on Dae. 

It’s too much, too good and Baekhyun comes first at the sight of Sir kissing Dae, licking into his mouth and nibbling on his bottom lip, hips unforgiving in their assault. He makes a mess all over his crotch and Dae’s back, and he likes to think the warmth of his seed is part of the reason Dae arches in his arms and comes onto his belly, untouched and beautiful.

They are both breathing heavily, lost in their pleasure, until Sir pulls out and sits on his haunches, still not having finished. “On your knees, both of you. Now.” His voice is strict, but it is starting to lose its steadiness and that simple hint is enough for them to know how close he is, and despite being exhausted and sore, Dae hurries to obey and approach Sir on his hand and knees, Baekhyun following as soon as he has room to move. 

The hard cock standing proud and leaking in front of them is mouth-watering, and neither waste any time before attaching their lips to it. At the same time. They have done this before, Baekhyun and Dae, and they fall into a familiar pattern soon enough, taking turns to suck on the head and kiss down the shaft and testicles. Sir loses his composure then, both hands coming down to tangle in the subs’ hair to keep them there, as well as to ground himself with them. 

“Open up.” He commands, deep and raspy, and Baekhyun and Jongdae obey, mouths open wide, tongues out, waiting for their treat. Sir grunts at the sight, taking his cock in his right hand and stroking himself to completion, pearly white landing on the beautiful faces looking up at him as though he held the sun and the moon in his hands. 

As soon as the last drops begin oozing out, Baekhyun and Dae latch onto the cock again, lips touching, tongues intertwining over the head, sharing the come each caught. It’s filthy, yes, but it’s also delicious and gratifying, knowing the bittersweet taste in their mouths is the result of their work.

The three of them slump on the bed, Sir in the middle and the boys curling against each of his sides, heads resting on shoulders, hands intertwined on top of Sir’s neatly trimmed pubic hair. Praises stumble out of Sir’s lips along with kisses to the boys’ temples as the audience starts to file out of the room, the last one kindly turning the lights off, leaving only a small bed light to provide illumination. They know they shouldn’t sleep; they should get up, clean up and go home, but as their eyelids become heavier and heavier, Baekhyun figures a nap won’t hurt anybody.

 

-

 

The next morning the three of them sit on their living room sipping on the coffee Minseok made earlier. It tastes like heaven, as usual. They are not Dom and subs right now, they are just Minseok, Jongdae and Baekhyun basking in their domestic life, in the love they share for one another.

Minseok smiles against the rim of his ‘grumpy kitty’ mug and asks “hey, Dae, are you sore?” Baekhyun snickers and Jongdae glares at him.

“You’re an asshole,” he replies, glare remaining until Baekhyun goes to their shared bedroom and returns with a bottle of chocolate scented massage oil they keep around for moments like this. 

 

Minseok simply smirks at him, continues to sip on his coffee.

 

“Don’t test my patience, Angel,” he says and the threat has them all getting excited at the prospect of the things they could do the next time they return to the dark rooms and burgundy velvety carpets of Chateau.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on aff under Urbinabarb


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